


yes or yes; the answer doesn't matter to me

by majesdane



Category: Skins (UK) RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-29
Updated: 2009-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:12:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Burn, she thinks. They burn each other.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	yes or yes; the answer doesn't matter to me

That's what you don't get. To find two people who have the same heart isn't a coincidence.  
\-- _pleasefindthis_

 

 

 

She knows that she's not who Lily wants.

Lily says things like, These things take time or It's complicated, or sometimes it's Kathryn is complicated; either way she says it, it means the same thing. Kathryn is not hers. And Lily is not Kathryn's. They don't belong to anyone, only themselves, at least on the outside. On the inside, Lily and Kathryn's and Kathryn is Lily's and things aren't complicated and they own themselves and each other and things make sense and time isn't a matter that they discuss. But the outside is what shows, and neither of them can find a way to turn themselves inside out.

She sits and watches them sometimes, the way they sit on the railings outside the studio smoking together during their breaks, the way Lily leans forward and cups her hand around the end of Kathryn's fag, to shield the flame from the wind. She knows the way Kathryn will exhale quickly at first, like she needs the smoke as bad as air, and how Lily will sit back with a small smile and take a long, steady drag of her own cigarette, eyes closed or focused on something on the sidewalk or flickering over towards Kat, if only for a moment.

And Megan can see the way they never seem to know what to do with their hands, the way Lily will shove hers in her pockets, or rest them on her knees. Kathryn will play with a strand of hair, grip the railing with the hand furthest away from Lily. And sometimes they'll both put their hands on the railing at the same time.

Their fingers will brush together and they'll snap apart like they've just been burned, as if the spark that they both feel from that sort of simple touch is just too unbearable, to think about or to experience or something else, perhaps, something that Megan doesn't understand and can't explain.

Burn, she thinks. They burn each other. But they don't understand that that's the good sort of pain. Not bad.

 

;;

 

These are the things she remembers:

Her sister hugging a tall brunette at the end of their summer drama class play, when the curtain has risen and fallen in triplicate. The way they both had on too much makeup, so that it shows up under the lights and the audience can see it all the way back in the back row. The brunette is nameless. She's just a girl I know, Kathryn says, and that is that. And then there is Lily, blond and taller than Megan remembers, with hair cropped shorter than Megan could ever allow her own hair to be styled. Her hand is warm and smooth when Megan takes it in her own, shaking it once.

Kathryn, leaning into kiss Lily, their mouths meeting in the space between them, lips crashing together, and she can barely even watch them do the scene once, let alone five more times. And it shouldn't matter, because a kiss is just a kiss, and this is just Emily and Naomi, and the things that are happening right now (them kissing) shouldn't mean anything at all (but it does).

 

;;

 

Lily has rather blue eyes. Megan wants to think them unremarkable, but her mind betrays her. It perhaps the only time her heart and mind have been in unison, she thinks, and it nearly catches her off-guard, that sort of thinking. It's dangerous and unwarranted, if not just unwanted.

 

;;

 

These are the things Megan knows:

There is the way Lily gives everyone an easy smile, and then there is the smile that is only Kathryn's. It's a secret sort of smile, as if they're both in on some sort of private joke. (Maybe they are.)

And then there is Lily at one, then two movie premieres, with longer hair and bright red lipstick, and all Megan can think about the whole movie is pale white skin stained ruby red because of it, of soft kisses on even softer skin, and when Kathryn's hand settles on top of Lily's during a tense scene, she isn't surprised when Lily doesn't pull away.

 

;;

 

I know you, Kaya says, and they're alone in the pool room of the hotel, not swimming, just sitting on the edge with their feet in the water, towels wrapped around them, over their swimming costumes. Megan stays silent, watches the way the water ripples when Kaya's foot shifts slightly. I know Kathryn too, Kaya says, after a long time. And Lily.

What do you know, Megan says, dragging her hand through the water, drawing stars on the tiled floor with wet fingers.

I know that you watch them, Kaya says, and slips out of her towel, before lowering herself into the pool; the parts of her that are underwater seem distorted, like they're not connected properly. Kaya says, You watch Lily. And them, together. And they watch each other. But not a single one of you understands.

Understands what? Megan stays on the side, feet in the water; Kaya dives under, surfaces ten feet away.

You know I can't tell you that, she says.

 

;;

 

Lily tastes like alcolpops; raspberry and lemonade.

Her lips are very soft. Sticky, though, with lipgloss. It tastes like summer, which is nothing and everything at once.

 

;;

 

Things are very complicated, Lily says, and she speaks as if there's no one else there, as if she's just thinking out loud and trying to convince herself of the reality of things. Things are complicated. Kathryn is complicated. There is just too much going on that I don't understand.

No one understands these things, Megan says. There's an empty bottle of vodka at their feet.

We should, though. Don't you think? Lily pulls a fag out of her jeans pocket, lights up.

(Megan doesn't think they should. She says as much.)

I think we need it, she says, the complications. She closes her eyes and listens for the sound of Lily exhaling, imagines her tipping her head back and blowing the smoke up to the stars, which she can see sometimes, but not always, because of clouds and the city lights and many other things. But tonight they're just barely visible, just tiny little shimmers of lights, like diamonds set against a velvet backdrop.

She thinks of _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ and Audrey Hepburn and other black and white movies where people are sad and things don't work out and the hero (or the heroine, sometimes -- she thinks Audrey Hepburn was in a movie like that, Kathryn watched it once and Megan sat on the couch and watched it with her until she got bored -- unless she's meant to be the villain, in which case it makes sense when she) doesn't get the girl.

When she opens her eyes again, Lily is looking at her.

 

;;

 

There is no private smile reserved for her like this is for Kathryn.

You don't talk much, do you Meg, Lily asks.

I do, Megan says. All the time. But sometimes it's nice to just sit without the words.

 

;;

 

She has never had any expectations regarding this.

She has never expected Lily to kiss her (though she does). She has never expected it to mean anything (and it doesn't, not really, only on the outside). She has never expected to feel her heart turn over slowly in her chest when Lily leans forward, very, very slowly, and kisses her, very, very lightly (but her heart does, though, and for a moment she is sure that she is going to burst from it swelling up so at this). She has never expected Lily to fall in love with her.

(And she doesn't.)

A kiss is only a kiss, even if it turns out to be (almost -- no, it _is_ ) as lovely as she'd thought it might be. (That was another thing she'd never had any expectations about, the quality of that kind of kiss, though Lily was surprisingly good at it, even if she was pissed and it was at an awkward angle on a bench in someone's backyard and no part of them touched except their lips, because their bodies were miles apart, or so it felt, to Megan.)

You're very lovely, Megan says, because it just seems like the right thing to say, rather than Thank you or Why are you doing this or You're drunk, please go home before you do something you will regret tomorrow morning when you've got a massive hangover.

 

;;

 

Kathryn is in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water and leaning against the counter top, her sweaty fringe sticking to her forehead, candy-apple-red. Her skirt's hiked up high (too much so) around her thighs, shirt a bit tighter than the sort she usually wears. Have you seen Lily? She asks, when Megan comes into the room, dropping the empty vodka bottle into the bin on the floor next to the sink and washing her hands.

Outside, Megan says. She can taste berry and lemonade on her tongue. She reaches for the faucet to turn the water off.

When she turns back, Kat is gone.

 

;;

 

These are the things that Megan has seen:

Kathryn, licking her lips before she leans into kiss Lily, for the fourth take of the first time Emily and Naomi kiss on screen.

The way Lily's hand settles on top of Kathryn's knee when they sit side-by-side for read-throughs. Kathryn's hand eventually falls to her side off the table, and her fingers intertwine with Lily's. Megan, on the other side of Lily, watches it all happen in a maddeningly slow way.

(It couldn't happen any other way, she doesn't think.)

And there is Lily and her sister, kissing in the dressing room. She watches it all play out in the reflection of the mirror behind them, through the partially opened door. There is the way Kathryn's fingers tangle in Lily's hair and Lily's hands on Kathryn's back, bunching up the fabric of her top, and they are so desperately clinging to each other that it feels like the world is ending just watching them.

(Maybe it is.)


End file.
